


Cushion

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Ficlet, M/M, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas rides his two strong men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cushion

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Inspired by p384 in The Fellowship of the Ring (The Ring Goes South) wherein Aragorn and Boromir fight a path for the rest through the snow and Legolas calls them “our Strong Men” 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He means to face Boromir, but Aragorn won’t allow it. His talented hands arrive on Legolas’ hips and turn him, bring him closer for a kiss, while his legs are spread and he’s entered, first once—twice. He breaks the kiss himself to toss his head back and _gasp_ , breathy but quiet—they never know when they’ll be watched. Boromir’s just as loud, his groan muffled in the back of Legolas’ hair. 

Aragorn has only a sharp intake of breath. He’s felt Legolas many times, even with other men inside, though Legolas doubts he’s found one so broad as Boromir. Their new friend is thick and long, a little curved and strong. When Legolas squeezes, he can feel the veins running up it, more pronounced than those dancing along Aragorn’s thinner shaft. Aragorn’s greatest strength lies in his skill. He finds the right angle whatever his position, whoever he’s with. He makes Legolas’ head cloud on that first thrust, sweeter than Dorwinion wine, wet with spittle and water and sweat from walking all day. When Aragorn moves against him, Boromir _moans_.

Boromir’s thick arms wrap around Legolas’ middle, the coarse fabric hot against his skin. He’s the only one that’s shed his clothes, because he’s sandwiched between them and doesn’t want to warm too quickly. He wants to enjoy all the nuances, stay _sane_ for as long as he can, even though Aragorn works so hard at undoing him. While Boromir’s chin hooks over one of Legolas’ shoulders, Aragorn tilts along the other, his mouth open wide for blunt teeth to run along the arch of Legolas’ neck. He’s bitten gently, lovingly—another mark of Aragorn’s claim that will fade from his fair skin before the sun rises again. Aragorn does it all the same. Hidden behind as much bushes as they can find, the three of them make love in broken, staccato thrusts that fill Legolas close to bursting. 

Straddling his ranger’s lap with a handsome man flattened into his back, Legolas can’t help but sigh, “My two strong men...” For all the other ways he’s an unlucky elf to be on this forsaken quest, in this way, he’s _very_ lucky.

Aragorn rubs his scruff along Legolas’ cheek, chuckling to purr, “I knew I was yours, but has my prince already captured Boromir as well?” Legolas dons a languid smile as Aragorn brings their lips together, his rougher and slightly chapped but always so much _fun_ to kiss—all probing tongue and hot breathe and fierce teeth that like to claw at him. 

Behind him, Boromir pants, “I’m just along for the ride.” It’s an excellent ride, so Legolas doesn’t complain. Perhaps, in time, he will become _theirs_ , the way they belong, though in an open-ended sort of way, to one another. But that’s a matter for another moon, and for now, Legolas just enjoys this state of being, shared between two hardy lovers. 

Boromir is overwhelmed already: Legolas can tell. His face turns, his cheek resting on Legolas’ shoulders, his arms wrapped around Legolas’ lithe waist but doing little more, while Aragorn’s hands hungrily explore Legolas’ supple frame. Boromir’s likely never had an elf before and certainly never felt the pleasure of Aragorn’s cock. Clenching tight around them both, Legolas turns away from Aragorn’s searching mouth to press a kiss to Boromir’s forehead, eliciting a shiver and ragged groan of delight. When Legolas returns to Aragorn, that ravenous mouth is waiting. 

Aragorn knows just how to make an elf happy. He fucks Legolas hard, his thrusts even and powerful, rhythmic compared to Boromir’s unsteady flow of shoves. Aragorn strokes Legolas’ sides, runs along his chest, tweaks his pert nipples and draws along his arms, pulling them forward until Legolas obeys, clinging to Aragorn’s shoulders. Legolas twists his long fingers in the shaggy brown locks, while Aragorn weaves into Legolas’ blond hair, straight and lengthy and silk-soft despite the journey. He enjoys Aragorn’s tangles all the same. Aragorn plays with his hair and kisses him and rolls inside him, one bit of exquisite pleasure after another.

Boromir is the first to fall. He shudders suddenly, biting back a hiss to hide his scream, and a moment later, he’s spurting a hot, sticky liquid into Legolas’ pulsing channel. Legolas tries to squeeze all the harder around Boromir’s girth, milking it out, though his velvety walls can’t hold onto every side like they would if Aragorn weren’t sharing the space. Aragorn continues to fuck him while Boromir spills a healthy amount of seed into Legolas’ waiting body. It makes him shiver with his own gladness. Boromir’s pleasure feeds his own. 

Boromir has only just stopped when Aragorn begins. It’s likely Legolas’ reactions that caused it, and Aragorn repays Legolas in kind. He tugs at Legolas’ hair, wrenching him back to taste his throat, and he’s pumped full of more human seed, bubbling up around the mammoth shafts already wedged inside him. He can feel it leaking around them, forced to drizzle out along his thighs. It’s a dizzying, delicious peak, where Legolas is kissed and stroked and used to a dirty end, until both his men have spilled all they have. 

They stay in him for only a moment before they lift him off together, like they’ve had some silent conference in their eyes. Legolas is still hard, his long, slim shaft trembling with want, and he isn’t disappointed. He’s drawn forward into his ranger’s lap, and Aragorn fills him with fingers and wraps around his cock, pumping him from both ends. He’s kissed with such force that he’d fall back if Boromir weren’t there to hold him up, and soon it’s too much for even an elf: Aragorn plays him so easily and _so well_ and soon he’s bursting and crying out into Aragorn’s mouth. His scream is swallowed away, his release drawn into Aragorn’s palm.

When the three of them are done, Boromir hits the ground. He lies on his back, staring up and breathing hard, his impressive cock returned to his breaches. Aragorn gently guides Legolas down beside him, where Legolas lies in the middle against the dirt, faded grass, and bits of stone. Boromir hesitantly strokes Legolas’ back, until Legolas turns around to kiss him. 

Once their lips separate, Boromir murmurs, “You should get dressed again.”

But Legolas only smiles, cooing softly, “Love is a powerful tool against the evil we fight.” And he can dress in the span of a second, certainly faster than their companions can be ready to move and the watcher can wake them. 

He nestles against Boromir’s side, leaning on Boromir’s shoulder to feel a steady heartbeat. Aragorn wraps around him from behind, holding on.

Together they sleep, knowing together they’ll fall.


End file.
